Threshold
by GarnetVengeance
Summary: Vincent stands at the threshold of his own inner turmoil.


Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Opening Notes: Just in case it isn't obvious, italics are either demons talking or flashbacks. Hopefully it's obvious which is which. Enjoy!

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Threshold

Vincent Valentine, gunman extraordinaire, ex-Turk, one of the eight who had defeated Sephiroth, Meteor, and Jenova, stood at the threshold of a church.

Churches were rare, to say the least, though when Meteor had appeared in the sky they had taken a bit of a skyrocket. People, after all, needed something to believe in, and it seemed the best place to turn when they were all going to die. They had prayed to the gods, false or otherwise, to spare them or, at the very least, reserve them a place in heaven, or whatever afterlife that god happened to preside over. After the crisis had been diverted, people were still a little shaky, to say the least, and so continued to attend church.

Vincent was not one of those people – not to say he didn't believe in God – however he viewed himself as someone who could not be saved, no matter how much he desired forgiveness for his sins. He did, however, enjoy churches. He would never enter, but simply stand outside, letting the serenity flow over him and let him feel a little less guilty, let him forget a little bit more.

Needless to say, it was something he had been doing more and more often lately.

This particular church was his favorite. He didn't know what God it resided under, nor did he overly care. He liked it because it was a good, old fashioned church, made of store and mortar, with great oaken doors that the pastor normally left open in order to 'welcome the lost sheep'.

Vincent's mouth twisted bitterly. Sheep, indeed. And where was he in this little equation of the world?

'_You would be the predator, dear Valentine.'_ Whispered a voice, '_Preying off the defenseless creatures below, if only for your own amusement.'_

'One thing I never did, demon, was kill for amusement.' Vincent gritted his teeth.

It laughed, _'That's what you say, but why else would a person kill?'_

'Survival. Necessity. There are many reasons.' Replied the gunman, shifting against the cold stone of the wall.

'_Please. Humans are nothing if not killers. I can name any number of them who would kill only for their amusement.'_

Vincent, seeing where this conversation was going should it continue on this path, fell back a step. 'That may be, but I am not one of them.'

'_Deny it all you like, dear Valentine. Perhaps once you reach your place in hell you will realize.' _The demon hissed, before slinking off to whatever corner of Vincent's mind it had carved itself into.

Vincent sighed, shifting again. The choir had started singing, and, in contrast to the gentle rain that had begun to fall, gave the area an even more… subdued, even mourning feel.

"_Put another long on the fire, would you, Vince? I'm a little cold."_

Vincent wondered idly if this was what Hojo had intended all along. That certainly would be like him, but… Vincent thought not. This was probably just some added punishment that came unintended. That would be just like him.

That would be just like God to heap some other sin on him.

"_Growing old sucks, Vincent. I wouldn't recommend it." He coughed lightly, "Then again, you wouldn't know that, would you? You don't look a day older then when you popped out of that coffin. I surprised I didn't die of a heart attack right then and there._

"_Sad, isn't it?" He continued, "For the longest time, I wanted to die… But then I survive everything- Sephiroth, Meteor, Kadaj, Sephiroth, Deep Ground – though, everything considered, you were in more danger then." He grinned, "I survive it all, to die of old age. After everyone else, no less." He laughed. "They always told me to stop being so self-centered… to start _living_… and then they go and leave me behind." He smiled, glancing at the taller man standing near the fireplace, "I'm sorry, Vince… I hate to leave you all alone…"_

_Vincent glanced at the younger man, though, had anyone else looked at the two, would never have been able to tell. The other lay in the bed, white hair with just the barest hint of gold falling haphazardly over his eyes. His hair, once spiky, and had almost… drooped with age. Like an old chocobo. Vincent sighed, rising from his place leaning against the wall._

"_Don't be. It is no fault of your own, and I am… adjusted." He said as gently as he could._

_The man in the bed snorted softly, "You say that, but we both know that's not true. Yuffie's death probably hit you harder than any of us."_

_Vincent gracefully averted his eyes. It was true – she had been so full of life for the longest time, but to be… snuffed out like that had truly shocked him. _

"_I'll say 'hi' to everyone for you, kay, Vincent?" The man said, his blue eyes half-lidded._

"_Yes, thank you, Cloud. I would appreciate it."_

Vincent started at a voice, jolting him out of his reverie. "Pardon?" He said, glancing at the kindly old pastor staring at him curiously from inside the church.

"I said, wouldn't you like to come in? You'll catch your death of cold out there, son."

"If only, Father." Vincent said, stepping out from the cover of the church and into the rain, instantly soaking his cloak and hair. Even in the fading light, though, the pastor could still see the queerly bright crimson eyes shining out from behind the curtain of the man's raven hair. "If only."

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Closing Notes: Ah, a FFVII one-shot successfully completed. I had the whole Cloud/Death thing worked out a while ago, but the church only came in when I was listening to 'The Promised Land' – the Advent Children Soundtrack version, and went 'Mmmmm… choir.'

So yeah.

Hope you enjoyed! And review, if you feel the need. It always gives me the warm-fuzzies inside.


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